


i'll get you lost, but i'm having fun

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, PWP, Plot What Plot, one shots, thasmin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-06 05:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18382316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: a series of nsfw thasmin one shots for yall thirsty gays





	1. keep quiet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clickofthecollar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clickofthecollar/gifts).



“Keep quiet, Yaz. If you can manage it?” Thirteen purrs like the cat which got the cream, eyeing her girlfriend spread out before her on the bed they share. She ducks under, retrieving a harness and toy from a box hidden beneath the bed, then climbs onto the sheets, observing the way Yaz tenses.

She drags the toy along her thigh first, dipping into the inner side and taking note of what makes her whimper. Yaz is on her front, face pressed into the pillow while her knees and hips are raised, begging for the Doctor to claim her.

“I said be _quiet_.”

The Doctor growls, a hand falling hard against her backside and echoing around the room. She shuffles forward then, stroking a hand down her spine before repeating the motion against her other cheek.

Yaz squeals, repeating her apologies over and over; “I’m sorry, miss. I’m sorry, miss. I’m so sorry, miss.”

So the Doctor lines up, thighs pressing against her counterpart’s while she presses forward, ever so slowly. “You’re going to thank me when I take you, okay?”

“Yes, miss. Of course.” Yaz whines, thighs trembling.

The Doctor finally, finally adds a little more pressure, making the toy glossy with Yaz ’s moisture before she _slams_ forward, in one swift motion.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Yaz cries, earning another harsh slap against her backside, then, just as harshly, against her clit. That quietens her to little whines and whimpers, biting down on her hand to keep herself as silent as she can. She’s always been audible, so it’s a heck of a task in itself.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Yaz? Don’t. Make. A. Fucking. Noise.” Each word is accompanied by a harsh slap against her breasts, her backside, and finally, the Doctor simply presses her face into the pillow, gripping her hair to keep her nice and trapped against the material.  

“So be it, my little toy.”

Her hips start thrusting at a punishing pace, faster than lightning - it makes Yaz wonder if Time Lord’s have super speed, or if their stamina is just so much higher. Although she doesn’t have much time for thought right now, not with the toy so deep inside her one second, then gone the next.

“Thank you, miss.”

“Thank you, miss.”

“Thank you, miss.”

“Thank you, miss.”

Each thrust adds another ‘thank you’ to the list, Yaz’s voice muffled against the material of her pillow. The pace is relentless and frankly pretty disrespectful, leaving Yaz a writhing mess against the sheets in no time.

“Please, can I come, miss?” Yaz all but mewls, clutching desperately at the sheets when breathing becomes ever more difficult. Each wheezing breath sends another spark of heat to her core, where the Doctor is currently sheathed inside her.

“Beg properly now, little one,” the Doctor instructs, a sharp thrust almost sending the younger woman falling over the edge just like that.

“Pretty please, miss, can I come?”

The Doctor groans, her own hips stuttering in their efforts. She grips her hair tighter, curling it between her fingers to tug and pull while her free hand buries bruises against her hip.

“Good girl. One more, pet.”

“ _Pretty_ please, miss, _please_!” She’s soaked and writhing and absolutely  _wrecked_ by now, thighs beginning to tremble and shake. She can’t hold on for much longer, that much is clear, which makes the Doctor’s next decision decidedly evil.

“No. You may not,” the Doctor growls, filling her girlfriend up several more times before she collapses over her with a groan and a quiet cry of her name. She comes, hard, panting fast against Yaz’s shoulder, rutting against her while the other woman cries into her pillow.

“How sorry are you, my little toy?”

“I’m so sorry! Please, miss! I’ll do anything!!” She’s all but sobbing now, hips rocking desperately against her own.

The Doctor simply smirks, halting her movements with a bruising hold against her hip. She doesn’t stop her own hips from pounding forward though, her stamina ensuring she can keep going for  _hours._

Yaz shivers, tears rolling down her cheeks while she twitches and tightens around the toy. “I’m so close.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m so close.”

“Doctor, I’m gonna.”

“DOCTOR.”

“I just.”

The Doctor can feel her spasming around the toy, eyes growing large and angry with passion. “Did you just come without my permission, toy?”

“Yes, miss. Fffffuck I’m so sorry.”

“Uh-Oh. Seems like I haven’t punished you enough, huh?”The Doctor pulls away, shoving Yaz back into the mattress and curling strong hands around her throat. She tightens her grip until Yaz’s pupils are dark and a little bloodshot, scrabbling at the Doctor’s hands while she writhes and gasps.

“Always listen to your owner, _fucktoy_.”

She slaps her, hard and sweeping across her cheek until it’s red and tears dance across its surface. It’s a sight to behold, but the tears are enough to gradually soften her features, blinking out of the actively domineering role as soon as the toy is discarded.

The Doctor reaches out a tentative arm to draw her girlfriend closer, mind working ten times faster than usual to assess whether she’s alright.

“Was that okay?” Her voice is much smaller now, shy and wary when she observes the glossiness to her eyes and the trembling which remains in her fingers. Her heartbeat drums in her ears like a racecar, fast and loud but dimming as she gets further away from her role in this scenario.

Yaz turns, finally, shifting onto her side and laying her head on her chest with a blissed-out sigh. She’s in her own little world for a few more long minutes, every nerve in her body screaming with pleasure while her limbs are deliciously numb. “That was _incredible._ Are you kidding?”

Despite the obvious slur to her words, the Doctor feels warmth swell in her chest, drawing the other woman closer to her with a pleased sigh. She can hear her girlfriend’s heart slowing back down to its regular pace against her chest, revelling in the sound of one heart instead of two. She thinks for a moment and concludes that human beings are pretty amazing.

“It wasn’t too much?” The Doctor persists, combing her fingers delicately through chocolate tresses. There’s a hint of anxiety in her tone, still.

“Babe, stop worrying. We have a safeword, remember? You’d _definitely know_ if I wasn’t enjoying it,” Yaz reassures her, leaning into her touch with a hum of content. Ever since she’d suggested switching their usual dynamics three hours earlier, the Doctor had been conscious of going too far, of bruising too hard, of being too harsh, so Yaz was all too happy to see her come out of her shell in the end.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to seek revenge, though, so you better keep your wits about you,” she adds, feeling more than seeing the shiver which rolls through the Doctor’s body, right down to her bones. “Underneath all that you’re _mine_ at the end of the day, right?”

There’s a whining, mewling little noise stuck in her throat which finally breaks free when the Doctor takes in each punctuated word. Her hips twitch with the connotations behind them, and she’s receded right back to her usual self. “Yes, ma’am.”


	2. early morning bliss

The Doctor slips a hand along Yaz’s thigh, where it’s thoroughly marked from the night before. She’s still asleep, leaving her oh so vulnerable and innocent while the Doctor dips under the sheets.

She leans in, tracing her lips up her thigh to her hip, then down to her clit. She’s surprised to find the harness and toy so close by, so she slips it up Yaz’s legs in her semi-conscious state.

Once in place, the Doctor presses the other end of the toy slowly inside the other woman, who’s already damp enough to take it. Yaz purrs quietly, thighs parting when the Doctor envelopes the tip between her lips.

She croons around the toy, breathless little needy whimpers falling from her throat when she starts to bob her head, almost gagging when the toy hits the back of her throat.

If Yaz wasn’t awake already, she is now - curling a hand in the Doctor’s hair and encouraging her with a little tug she earns a whine for. “Good little girl, you want daddy’s cock?”

The Doctor simply whimpers, nodding like the needy little toy she is. She glances up from beneath the sheets to find dark brown eyes burning into her own. “Would you like to ride daddy’s cock, pet?”

“You’re so good at it, filling yourself up for me and fucking me so hard. Go on, pet.”

The Doctor shuffles up with a happy little squeak, hovering over her hips with a somewhat mad grin on her lips.

“Can I ride you, daddy?”

Yaz nods, eager but stern. “No coming until I say so, little one.”

The Doctor grins gleefully, gathering the dampness from between her legs to coat the toy, then making a show of dribbling over it for extra slickness.

“My drooly little toy, look at you.”

Finally, finally, the Doctor lowers herself, thighs slipping either side of the toy while she slowly, slowly sinks down onto its girth.

She’s already soaked, so it takes no effort to start moving and twisting her hips in time with Yaz’s.  She’s tight around the toy, making the sounds even louder when she draws off the toy then sinks down once more.

“Thank you daddy.”

“Thank you daddy.”

Her nails drag along Yaz’s chest, catching on her breasts and earning a soft cry each time.  She speeds up, slowly, toes curling and toned thighs tensing with each bounce and buck of her hips.

"Daddy's about to come, little one. You're such a good girl."

The Doctor nods desperately, breathless and quivering as she speeds up until the bed is creaking with each stroke of her hips. "Your little one is about to come, too, daddy. can I please come?"

"One more time, pet."

"Daddy, please can I come?"

"Of course you can, little one. After three."

Yaz reaches up, pinching a nipple between her thumb and forefinger and squeezing as hard as possible, while the other sinks down to her clit.

“Three.”

She pinches her clit until tears form in the Doctor’s eyes, jaw hanging open.

“Two.”

Yaz grins sadistically, licking her lips when she slides her hand up from her chest to her throat, grip tight and unforgiving.

“One. Come for me, little pet.”

There’s a mewl, then silence, then a high-pitched cry of Yaz’s name in a language she’s never heard before as the Doctor comes hard around the toy, hips canting and jumping against her own while she spasms and crests. 

The sight of her girlfriend is enough to tip Yaz over the edge in turn, a few harsh thrusts stretching her girlfriend’s tight core while she groans and sighs. Her back arches in a perfect bow, toes curling in the sheets.

The Doctor collapses against her chest, nestling into the space between her shoulder and neck to pant and purr, the toy still sheathed deep within her. She’s akin to a cat, nuzzling and mewling and clinging as close as possible for affection. 

Yaz traces her fingers up and down her prominent spine, cooing the same two words against the top of her head for as long as it takes her to compose herself. “Good girl. Good girl. You’re  _ such  _ a good girl, Doctor.”

She scrawls her name between her shoulder blades, murmuring softly. 

“You’re my good little one, aren’t you?”

When she doesn’t receive a response right away, she trails one hand up to curl in blonde locks, giving a swift tug so that she meets her sleepy gaze with a shiver and a gasp. “What do you say, kitten?”

“Yours, daddy. I’m your good little one.”

“That’s right!” The pressure eases up and the Doctor sinks in against her again. “Good girl.”

The purr she elicits as well as the twitch of slim hips signal that she’s well and truly correct. 


	3. i’d rather drink you up

The Doctor is tinkering at the console, working out how to add more colourful lighting to the room when she feels strong arms slip around her waist from behind, dragging her willingly from her reverie. Instinct makes her lean back into her girlfriend’s hold, the slow purr of Yaz’s voice melting against her ear. 

“What are you still doing up? Come to bed, babe.”

The lilt to her words suggests anything but wanting to sleep, as does the way her arms move, cool fingers curling under the hems of her tops to dance over her rapidly warming skin.

When she attempts to turn, to curl her own arms around her girlfriend and lean in, Yaz doesn’t let up, pinning her in place against the console. She closes the small distance between their bodies, leaning in to press a flurry of kisses against the very tops of her shoulders where her t-shirt dips slightly. 

The Doctor can only watch the reflections in the console to gauge what’s coming next, her breath catching in her throat when she feels lips on sensitive skin. She reaches out, curling a hand around the edge of the console, knuckles turning white when Yaz nudges her hips forward just enough to earn a stuttered gasp. She can feel her smirk against her skin in response. 

“Someone’s sensitive,” Yaz remarks slyly, the hand tucked underneath her tops venturing further and further until it’s blocked by the Doctor’s sports bra. That’s no trouble, though, as she easily slips her fingertips beneath the material, brushing over a soft nub. 

The Doctor is working very hard not to emit any noise despite the fact she’s already drenching the material of her underwear through pure anticipation. 

Yasmin Khan is unpredictable in the  _ best  _ possible way. 

“Trying to keep quiet, huh? Oh, but I  _ love _ the sounds you make, baby,” her voice is like liquid gold, leaving the Doctor trembling beneath her touch. Her lips press to the delicate curve of her neck, next, so she tilts her head against the action. The slow, torturous roll of her hips which follows elicits a sharp gasp, the curve of the console pressing into slim hips with every movement. 

“Gods, Yaz.”

“That’s better,” she drawls, pinching a nipple between thumb and forefinger if only to catch her off guard, and oh, she  _ does.  _ A strained moan bounces off the dome-shaped room’s walls and the Doctor reaches back, gripping at Yaz’s hips to draw them closer. She whispers something so quietly Yaz can’t hear, although she is, admittedly, a little busy sucking a mark into the space just below her jaw. 

“What was that, little one?” The pet name works wonders, the Doctor’s knees almost giving way when it’s coupled with another pinch of her nipple. 

The Time Lord turns her head, cheeks aflame and pupils almost entirely black. 

“Take me to bed.”

Yaz can’t help the shiver which rolls down her spine and she swallows thickly. 

“Say please.”

“Please, _ take me to bed,”  _ the Doctor pleads, lashes fluttering, her sole focus settled on the soft, plush curve of Yaz’s bottom lip. 

Finally, Yaz allows her to turn, winding her arms around her neck to draw her in for an open-mouthed, passionate kiss. 

The Doctor  _ adores _ kissing Yaz, her stomach doing flips as she leans in, not a centimetre between them when she desperately presses their bodies together. She catches Yaz’s bottom lip between her teeth, giving a light tug to let her know she still has an element of control, albeit little. She delights in the moan she receives in turn, reaching out to curl her fingers into her star-littered pyjamas. 

Yaz is the first to pull back, curling her fingers around the Doctor’s and all but dragging her into the corridor housing everyone’s bedrooms. She opens their bedroom door, stepping aside. “After you.”

The Doctor slips inside with a coy smile, although she only takes two steps forward before she’s dragged back by her suspenders, back hitting the door. Full lips suddenly press against her own, their resulting kiss urgent and hot. They’re both panting within minutes, fingers curled in hair and in back pockets and into the material of pyjamas all at once in a fierce competition for purchase. 

It’s only when Yaz’s hands wind around the Doctor’s marked throat that she has to admit defeat, heat flooding to her core when her hold tightens curiously. She earns a delicious moan for her efforts, and Yaz’s eyes sparkle with mirth. “Interesting.”

She lets go, for now, allowing the Time Lord to catch her breath for a moment. 

Then, slyly, she tips her chin up to observe the red mark left behind. She wets her lips, leans in, and soothes the spot with her tongue. The groan the Doctor emits is almost embarrassingly loud, her eyes rolling back just a touch. 

“Clothes off, babe,” Yaz purrs, watching on in amusement as the Doctor begins peeling her tops off, all clumsy limbs and flushed cheeks in her rush. She ends up in her underwear, glancing towards her girlfriend with a triumphant look. 

“Uh, uh. Those, too,” Yaz quips, motioning towards the Doctor’s pale blue knickers and grey sports bra. In the meantime, she perches on the edge of the bed, head tilted, observing the Doctor as though she’s prey. 

Her girlfriend is soon bare, lingering on the spot before she approaches and instantly drops to her knees. She’s a quick learner, Yaz notes, rewarding her with a proud smile. 

“Good girl! Now, do you think you can help me with mine?” She nods down to the matching plaid shirt and short pyjamas sitting loosely on her frame, offering up an expectant look. 

“Of course! Yes, ma’am.” The Doctor leans in, unbuttoning her shirt from the bottom and delighting in the fact she isn’t wearing any underwear underneath. She licks her lips when she peels the item of clothing away, giving her girlfriend a look of absolute desire. The same goes for her pyjama shorts, which are drawn down with a curl of her wrist and a pleased hum. She loves Yaz’s legs, the skin youthful and smooth against toned muscles. 

She hears Yaz clear her throat and snaps out of her daydream with a jump. “Yes, ma’am?” 

“Come on up and join me, little one,” Yaz counters, patting the spot beside her. She waits until the Doctor is sat patiently at her side before she gives her a gentle nudge back into the fluffy pillows. 

“Pick a number between one and ten.” Yaz’s pupils darken as she kneels up beside her, idly reaching out to drag her fingernails over the Doctor’s thighs, never once nearing the source of emanating heat. 

“Four. Why?” The Doctor’s head is tilted in curiosity, thighs already trembling. Her next breath catches in her throat when Yaz looms over her, thighs settling either side of her head as she hovers, inches from her lips. She almost moans at the sight of her, glistening and wet and oh so close. If she could just reach out her tongue...

“That’s how many times you’re going to make me come, pet. Get to it,” Yaz commands, lowering herself so that the Doctor has only milimetres of breathing space. She’d boasted about her talent in holding her breath not long ago, so Yaz is smug as she tests her theory. 

She can only stay smug for so long, however, as soon enough the Doctor’s tongue is working wonders against her, lapping lazily at her clit before sucking harsh and fast. Yaz breathes a soft moan, reaching down to lace her fingers through her hair and tug encouragingly.

The Doctor’s groan melts and vibrates against her core, leaving Yaz to sigh breathlessly. She never usually takes long to push her over the edge, thanks to that talented tongue of hers. 

“Keep it up, there’s a good girl,” Yaz croons, thighs clamping around the Doctor’s head when a certain curl of her tongue sends her nerves on fire. She moans, breathy and hot, tipping her head back and letting chocolate tresses tumble over her shoulders. The sight alone is enough to have the Doctor’s own hips twitching against the matress, her neediness driving her actions to speed up. 

When the Doctor dips her tongue past her core to swirl and lap like a kitten, Yaz’s hips begin a slow grind against her lips, her nose nudging at her clit with each movement. It’s only then that the Doctor realises she has to break for air at some point, panting breathlessly against her core as she fights for air between the heat of her thighs. 

“The quicker you work, the quicker you can breathe, little one,” Yaz murmurs encouragingly, the lilt of desperation in her tone making the Doctor smirk momentarily against her. She caused that. She’s the reason Yaz’s chest is now heaving, thighs beginning to quiver. 

“Yes, ma’am,” the Doctor gasps in response, delving right back into her task. She ventures further with her tongue, raking it along her walls to test her most sensitive spots. There are stars beginning to burst behind her eyes, oxygen flow decreasing and strength weakening, but she is determined to finish her task - she’s a good girl, after all. 

Yaz can almost read her mind, words a little weaker this time. “Good girls always finish their duties, don’t they?” 

The nod the Doctor returns is quick and feverish, sweat building above her brow as she fucks her girlfriend with her tongue until she’s gasping for more, for a certain flick of her tongue, a deeper thrust. 

She comes with the Doctor’s name on her lips, tugging her hair taut to keep her in place while she crests and descends from utter bliss. 

“Thank me, then I’ll - I’ll let you breathe,” she sighs, glancing down into bloodshot green eyes, thighs tight around her head, hips nestled against her nose, blocking any oxygen. 

“Than - ff - thank you, ma’am,” the Doctor stammers against her, chest heaving. 

“Good girl,” finally, Yaz eases up, hovering up on her knees again. She notices the glistening dampness around the Doctor’s mouth and nose while she takes in lungfuls of much-needed air, smirking smugly at her achievement. She only gives her a few seconds to regain her composure again before reaching down to pinch her nose between her finger and thumb, the panic flashing in her eyes mixing with arousal. 

“Still three more to go, little one. I’ll give you five seconds after each orgasm to breathe, okay?” 

“Yes, ma’am. Of course, ma’am,” the Doctor can only nod, purring as her girlfriend lowers herself once more, settled nice and snug against her nose and mouth. She gets to work right away, lapping at her clit before circling her core until Yaz tugs impatiently at her hair. 

“Inside me,  _ now,”  _ Yaz growls, her orgasm already racing towards her. She’s sensitive now, every lick and suck and lap sending her nerves into overdrive. 

The minute the Doctor’s tongue enters her again, fucking hard and deep and consistent, she falls apart, clutching at blonde strands until stars blur her vision and she twitches against her. Tiny aftershocks roll down her spine until she’s trembling, but she has the strength to pull back and let her poor girlfriend breathe again. 

Five seconds later, she’s grinding against her once again, the subtle probe of fingers joining teeth and lips on their assault on her core. She’s left all but screaming as another orgasm hits her full force, unable to even process thoughts properly for much longer. 

Her final orgasm is drawn out, her own hands sliding up to her chest, to tease and pinch and scrape her nails against her skin while the Doctor works away at her. She’s consistent and eager, slipping a single digit, then two, into her core while she rakes her teeth over her clit, Yaz’s gasps echoing in the space around them. 

When she’s nearing the verge, Yaz takes a dash of mercy on the woman beneath her, walking her fingertips down the blonde’s chest to the searing heat between her thighs to urge her on. It seems to work, considering the alarming pace she establishes right before the world turns on its axis and Yaz cries her name as though it’s the last time she’ll ever get to say it. 

She comes harder than ever before, a mess of trembling limbs and dripping wet skin as she finally collapses into the sheets beside her girlfriend, panting and grinning and absolutely high on pleasure.

She can only watch on in smug amusement as the Doctor splutters and heaves for breath, pupils dark. 

“What happened to ‘I can hold my breath for hours’, babe?” Yaz chides, shifting onto her side and tipping the blonde’s chin up for a kiss, swallowing her embarrassment. 

The Doctor pries her lips apart with her tongue, breathing a soft whine into her mouth. Her hips jump against the younger woman’s, her own need returning full force. 

“Oh, are you feeling needy, little one? Would you like me to touch you?” The purr to her voice almost has the Doctor coming apart then and there, a quivering mess only Yaz can assist with. She squirms under her gaze, a breathy moan falling from her lips when finally she pays her some much-needed attention. 

A warm palm slips up along the Doctor’s thigh, goosebumps following in its wake until damp warmth envelopes her fingers. Yaz gives a faint hum of approval, leaning in to catch the Doctor’s earlobe between pearly whites and tug while slick digits venture further. 

She has the Time Lord writhing in no time, built up arousal racing to the surface and encouraging a string of ‘please’s to drawl from her lips, needy and desperate. 

The Doctor is hurtling towards the edge, Yaz’s name on the tip of her tongue as she trembles around the fingers fucking her deeply and firmly. They curl to rake against hot, sensitive walls, causing stars to birth and burn behind the blonde’s eyes. 

“Yaz,  _ Yaz _ , I’m going to-” the Doctor groans, gripping the wrist between her legs to start quickly fucking herself onto Yaz’s fingers. Her girlfriend’s facade falters for a moment as she moans at the sight. She loves the look on the Doctor’s face when she’s this close to absolute bliss, but she loves it  _ even more _ when she’s denied. 

“Uh, uh. Hold it,” she commands, sending heat straight to the other woman’s core like a surge of electricity ready to combust. 

“Please… please, please, miss. Please, Yaz.  _ Please,”  _ the Doctor pleads, shivering and shaking. She whines  _ loudly _ when her touch leaves her, hips grinding and jumping up into empty space. 

“Touch yourself, baby. I’m going to grab something. Do  _ not _ come,” Yaz purrs, close to her ear. She moves the Doctor’s hand between her legs, watching on as she slicks her fingers up before diving into her task. 

The brunette ducks beneath the bed to draw out a box, rifling through to find a tiny bullet-shaped toy. She climbs back onto the bed and leans in, lips latching on a pebbled nipple while she nudges her hand aside. 

The distinctive buzz of the toy sounds before suddenly it’s pressed firmly against her clit, turned quickly onto its highest setting. It takes all the Doctor’s control not to burst apart at the seams immediately, overstimulated muscles clenching and tightening as she works to hold back her release. 

“I don’t recall telling you to stop begging, pet.”

“Ffff- gods, Yaz. Please, please, I’m on  _ fire,”  _ the Doctor cries, eyes squeezed shut, brows pinched, jaw hanging open. 

“Please,  _ what?”  _ Yaz counters, and the Doctor can  _ hear _ the smirk on her lips. 

“Ple- ah! Please let me -  _ ohfuckrightthere _ ! Please, please let me _ come _ ,” the Doctor stammers, interrupted by Yaz’s teeth around her nipple and her fingers crooking inside her, the toy relentless against her bundle of nerves. Her body is screaming at her, and she doesn’t think she can hold back for much longer. 

Finally, Yaz decides to take mercy on the quivering blonde, curling her fingers one more time against her walls, knuckle-deep, and sucking a mark into her breast which is likely to last for a week or so. 

“Come for me, baby,” she whispers against creamy skin, soothing her tongue over the reddening hickey she’s left in her wake. 

The gentle assertion echoes in the synapses of the Doctor’s brain when she finally gives in to the lure of her orgasm, all but rutting against the vibrating toy pressed against her clit. She grips at Yaz’s wrist hard enough to bruise, securing her in place between her legs until she slumps, sated and exhausted, against the sheets. There’s a line of sweat above her lip and between her brows, features a delicious shade of pink. 

Yaz draws her girlfriend in, pressing a flurry of kisses to her forehead while she mumbles her graciousness incoherently, limbs like lead. She turns the toy off and tosses it aside in favour of wrapping her arms around her, heart pounding in her chest. 

“Was that okay?” Yaz finally speaks up, voice hoarse with exhaustion. She glides her fingers through blonde tresses, coaxing the Time Lord back to reality. 

“That was…  _ wow,”  _ the Doctor responds in whispers, settling her head on Yaz’s chest to listen to the single beat of her heart. “So good. You’re  _ so good,  _ Yaz.”

The Time Lord leans up, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips which conveys more than words can at this moment in time (mostly due to the way Yaz’s thigh has oh-so-innocently settled between her own). 

When Yaz returns the kiss, all she can taste is herself, a groan filtering past her lips and melting against the Doctor’s. 

“Hey, pet. If you’re not too tired, d’you fancy trying out the rest of the new toys I have for you?” She quips, pulling back to admire the shiny collar hanging from the side of the box. 

The Doctor’s insides flood with warmth once more, and a tiny, shy nod seals the deal. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!


End file.
